Her Nightmare, His Daydream
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: Victoire is broken and damaged, and finds solitude looking out at the roaring oceans behind Shell Cottage. Teddy loves her no matter what.


**Her Nightmare, His Daydream**

 **Word Count:** 1,021

 **Written For:**

\- Shane for the Epic Exchange, prompt used: "I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream." - Taylor Swift

\- Gringotts Prompt Bank - Sex & the City Prompts: (word) Supermodel, (object) Fashion magazine, (dialogue) "I hate my thighs. I can't even open a magazine without thinking thighs, thighs, thighs.", (word) Perfect, (dialogue) "Venice is the most beautiful, romantic city in the world." / "Really? I heard it was sinking."

\- Gringotts Prompt Bank - True Blood Prompts: (dialogue) "I hate the beach. Fish piss and sand in your cooch.", "The streets can be dangerous at this hour. A lady should really be more careful." / "If I meet a lady, I'll let her know."

* * *

Victoire wiped her red-rimmed eyes as she stared out at the night sky. She was up at an ungodly hour yet again, staring at the stars and wishing that she was anywhere but Shell Cottage. As the thought of leaving crossed her mind, her eyes fell on the sleeping form of her boyfriend, Teddy. He was breathing steadily, causing the lump in the sheets to rise and fall.

It was getting harder and harder to just _exist_. She was sitting on the armchair by the window, surrounded by dozens of dozens of cut-outs from various Muggle fashion magazines. She would sit there for hours in the dead of the night, cutting out pictures of tall, slender supermodels, and then sob over the scraps of paper.

Victoire couldn't look in a mirror without seeing a distorted image of herself. Every bite of food that she was forced to put in her mouth tasted like dirt and made her stomach churn. If an item of clothing was a little tight on her, she couldn't bear it. If the scales showed that she'd gained even half a pound, she would break down.

All she wanted was to be thin; to be pretty and petite and slender. Not tall and gangly, with her mother's discreet good looks but her father's lanky stature. She wanted to be like Dominique, who was delicate and dainty, with a neck like a ballerina and wrists so slight that she was sure they would snap under pressure.

She threw her scissors onto the floor, having ripped apart her last magazine. It was about now that she would fall to her next habit. Slowly, she peeled back the fleece sleeves of her pyjama shirt and examine the raised red scars on her inner arms. But just the sight of her marred arms made her angry. It wasn't going to work on this night.

She turned back to the stars, watching as they burned glittering opalescent stains into the inky sky. She wanted to be out _there._ She wanted to inhale the fresh air for once, instead of hiding up here in her bedroom like she always did, avoiding any human contact. So, she quietly tiptoed around the room, picking up her coat and shoes, and carefully sneaked out of the house.

Before long, she was dangerously teetering on the edge of the cliff just a few yards away from Shell Cottage. She carefully sat down on an overhanging rock, letting her legs dangle over the edge. The salty breeze from the sea sprayed her face coldly, and she leaned back, inhaling the oceanic air.

She sat like this for a long while, right up until she could see the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon. She was so deep in thought, thinking about how easy it would be to just keep her eyes closed and allow herself to fall forwards, off the edge of the cliff and down into the frothy sea below.

Someone cleared their throat behind her suddenly, and Victoire flinched so much she almost _did_ fall. She jerked her head in the direction of the visitor, glaring angrily. It was Teddy, still in his pyjama bottoms and no shirt, with his arms folded across his bare chest. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"It can be dangerous outside at this hour. A lady should really be more careful."

"If I meet a lady, I'll let her know."

Teddy laughed quietly, and lowered himself into a sitting position behind her. His legs surrounded her, and he wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her back so that she was leaning against him. At first she was rigid, trying to give off the impression that she didn't want him there, but he was letting off an unusual amount of heat. Within seconds, she was allowing herself to nestle into his chest, feeding from his warmth. He buried his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply.

"I saw what you'd done with the magazines again, Vic," he murmured softly. "I wish you wouldn't do that. I think you're perfect. You're _beautiful._ "

Victoire glared out into the sunrise. "I hate my thighs," she grumbled.

"What?" Teddy reached forwards and squeezed her upper thigh gently. "There's nothing wrong with them."

"I can't even open a magazine without thinking thighs, thighs, thighs."

Teddy didn't reply for a while, and Victoire could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain. "Listen, I've been thinking. Why don't you and I go away for a while? For a little mini break?"

"Where?" Victoire asked, but she already regretted responding. The only thing she hated more than leaving home, was leaving home for places that she had never been to before. She didn't like the unknown. She wanted to know where everything was, and if there was a place she could escape to if she needed it.

"Devon? They have nice beaches there."

"I hate the beach," Victoire scoffed. It was one thing that she enjoyed about Shell Cottage—there wasn't much of a beach, just cliffs and rocks. "Fish piss and sand in your cooch."

"Okay, well how about somewhere further afield. What about Italy? We could go to Venice. Venice is the most beautiful, romantic city in the world." Teddy had always been quite the romantic, though he did his best to act like he wasn't in front of his male friends.

"Really?" Victoire challenged. "I heard it was sinking."

Teddy started chuckling at her humour, and the corners of her mouth twitched. Before long, she was laughing along with him, rolling her head back onto his chest.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm a nightmare."

"You're not a nightmare," Teddy whispered, nuzzling into her neck. His breath sent shivers running down her spine. "You're a daydream."

"Okay, I'm a nightmare _dressed_ like a daydream."

Teddy laughed again. "Okay," he purred. "I'll take that. Now lets go back to bed."

Feeling much better, Victoire allowed herself to be hauled to her feet, and led back inside by her boyfriend.

No matter how dark her life got, Teddy always knew how to make her feel better.


End file.
